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He began to speak of other matters in a low, droning
voice, like a man who converses with himself.
Sad, all of them, such as the haunted death of Saduko
who had betrayed his lord, the Prince Umbelazi, because
of a woman, every circumstance of which seemed to
be familiar to him.

I made no answer, who was waiting for an opportunity
to leave the hut, and did not care to dwell on these
events. He ceased and brooded for a while, then
said suddenly—­

“You are hungry and would eat, Macumazahn, and
I who eat little would sleep, for in sleep the multitudes
of Spirits visit me, bringing tidings from afar.
Well, we have spoken together and of that I am glad,
for who knows when the chance will come again, though
I think that soon we shall meet at Ulundi, Ulundi where
Fate spreads its net. What was it I had to say
to you? Ah! I remember. There is
one who is always in your thoughts and whom you wish
to see, one too who wishes to see you. You shall,
you shall in payment for the trouble you have taken
in coming so far to visit a poor old Zulu doctor whom,
as you told me long ago, you know to be nothing but
a cheat.”

He paused and, why I could not tell, I grew weak with
fear of I knew not what, and bethought me of flight.

“It is cold in this hut, is it not?” he
went on. “Burn up, fire, burn up!”
and plunging his hand into a catskin bag of medicines
which he wore, he drew out some powder which he threw
upon the embers that instantly burst into bright flame.

“Look now, Macumazahn,” he said, “look
to your right.”

I looked and oh Heaven! there before me with outstretched
arms and infinite yearning on her face, stood Mameena,
Mameena as I had last seen her after I gave her the
promised kiss that she used to cover her taking of
the poison. For five seconds, mayhap, she stood
thus, living, wonderful, but still as death, the fierce
light showing all. Then the flame died down again
and she was gone.

I turned and next instant was out of the hut, pursued
by the terrible laughter of Zikali.

CHAPTER XII

TRAPPED

Outside in the cool night air I recovered myself,
sufficiently at any rate to be able to think, and
saw at once that the thing was an illusion for which
Zikali had prepared my mind very carefully by means
of the young witch-doctoress, Nombe. He knew
well enough that this remarkable woman, Mameena, had
made a deep impression on me nearly a quarter of a
century before, as she had done upon other men with
whom she had been associated. Therefore it was
probable that she would always be present to my thought,
since whatever a man forgets, he remembers the women
who have shown him favour, true or false, for Nature
has decreed it thus.